


You'll Never Feel Like You're Alone

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, OT5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: Harry is not listening. Louis is sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Harry is not listening to a word that he is saying. A lesser man than himself may be fooled. Harry is nodding his head at the appropriate times, making noises of acknowledgement at the right intervals. But, Louis is no common man. He is trained and certified in Harry fucking Styles and right now? Harry is not listening.





	You'll Never Feel Like You're Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thank you to larry-soulmates who inadvertently gave me this prompt and got me to finish something for once in my life.
> 
> Secondly, thank you to yoursongonmyheart for supporting me and dealing with me in general. My hero, forever and ever.

Harry is not listening. Louis is sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Harry is not listening to a word that he is saying. A lesser man than himself may be fooled. Harry is nodding his head at the appropriate times, making noises of acknowledgement at the right intervals. But, Louis is no common man. He is trained and certified in Harry fucking Styles and right now? Harry is not listening. 

“Harold.” 

Harry’s back tenses, the knife he’s using to chop peppers finds itself suspended in mid air, and Louis. Louis fucking knew it.  Doing his best to actually set Harry’s shirt on fire with the power of his glare, Louis crosses his arms over his chest.   

“Do you know what I think?” He works to keep his tone of voice in check as he slides the paper towel roll off the holder.  “I think you're not fucking listening to a word I’m saying!” Harry better be thankful the last four years spent living attached to Louis’s hip that allow him to anticipate it and duck down, narrowly avoiding the roll of paper towels flying by his right ear. 

He spins round and puts his hands up in self defense, putting on his most innocent smile. Like dimples are going to fix this. Please. 

“I was listening. Wait!” Louis stares at him through narrowed eyes, an orange clutched in his hand, ready to be lobbed right smack into the middle of Harry’s head. “I’m sorry! I lied, I wasn't listening. But, I am! I am now.” 

The orange pings loudly as it collides with ceramic and spins around the bottom of the fruit bowl where it's been tossed back. Louis gives him a spectacular eye roll in lieu of letting him know he's still not out of the woods yet. 

“Well, the story’s done, innit?” 

Harry’s always said Louis’s pouty face should be put up in museums across the globe. Could win awards. Is there such a thing as a pouty face award? He’ll have to look that up. Well, he’ll have to make Harry look that up. 

“Not like you want to hear it anyway. You obviously think I’m  _ boring.” _

Guilt trip awards. There's another thing to research. But a guilt trip, that's Louis’s way of giving Harry enough rope to pull himself out of the hole he's dug. Harry has never missed that chance. Let’s see if Harry takes hold of the rope now. 

“Lou, you are my best friend.” He braces his hip against the counter and cocks his head to the side. Waits for Louis to give him a smirk. “I think you are the most interesting person in the whole wide world.” 

Louis lets out a tiny huff of breath and looks down at the counter. It’s Harry’s sign that he can go on cooking them dinner now without the fear of being cracked in the back of the head. He twists around and brings the peppers to the island so he can finish cutting while facing Louis.  He looks up and opens his mouth to properly apologize, but Louis’s already watching him. Their eyes meet and Louis sends him a wink ( _ you're forgiven)  _ and climbs up on top of the kitchen island, scooting all the way across. Sat next to Harry’s left shoulder, his feet bang rhythmically against the cabinets while he scrolls through his twitter feed. 

Louis snorts quietly and taps Harry on the shoulder “Look at this Haz.” 

Harry hums in acknowledgement and looks up questioningly in his direction but goes cross eyed trying to focus on the phone Louis has shoved an inch away from his face. He laughs and bats it away gently, shaking his head fondly. 

“Just read it to me, you spectacular knob.” 

Louis gasps dramatically and smacks his hand to his chest, clutching his imaginary pearls. 

“Of all the rude things to say to a girl! Well, I’ll have you know that  _ you  _ are only an ordinary, everyday knob. So, I win!” 

Laughing loudly Harry turns back to the stove and throws the peppers in the pan. “Are you going to read it or not!” He was probably going for impatient and bothered, Louis is pretty sure it sounded a lot more like fond and loving. 

“Hold your horses! Don't much like being rushed.” 

From around the fridge door, Harry fixes him with a steely look and opens his mouth to retort but Louis starts back up again loudly before Harry can get it out. 

“It says on Twitter, this article anyway, says ‘Men should ejaculate at least 21 times per month to reduce the risk of developing prostate cancer.’ That's almost one a day, innit?” Louis chuckles incredulously at his phone but frowns slightly when he looks up and notices Harry’s face has gone pink. 

“Oi! What are you blushing for? Are you telling me you actually come this much? Come on Hazza, I'm with you all the time. I would know if you were bringing people back round the house almost every single night. I know for a fact you’ve had sex with like three people your whole life.”

Harry has the audacity to look bashful while looking up from the steak he’s placed on the cutting board.  “Two. Two people, Lou. And doesn’t say its gotta be with someone else, does it?” And..oh.  _ Oh. _

Louis’s eyebrows start to creep up to his hairline and it gotta be the beer that's got him blabbering on without one thought about what's actually coming out of his big fat mouth. 

“Jesus, Haz. At the rate you’re ringing it out, you’ll have the healthiest prostate in history!” He can’t help flush a little at the thought of Harry wanking. Probably when Louis is home. Probably when he’s right down the hall. 

Harry scoffs and throws the steak in the pan to brown as well. He turns back around and plants his hands on his hips before answering “And I’m supposed to believe you’re the Virgin Mary?” He washes the steak off his hands and watches Louis with intention while drying them off with a dish towel hanging from the oven door. 

And. Well no Louis is no saint, but he’s not quite as  _ active _ as Harry apparently is. It’s just that they are just always around each other. While Louis showers, Harry is brushing his teeth. When Harry is cooking, Louis is making a mess of the kitchen. When Louis is playing footie in the garden, Harry is writing songs in the grass. It’s not like he’s got a lot of alone time to work with.  Louis can’t even imagine when Harry is finding all this time, come to think of it. 

“So you are sneaking around, leaving me on my own, to wank?” He’s joking really. He’s not actually jealous. He’s not. “Have you even thought about my health!” 

Harry laughs disbelievingly and throws his hands in the air before running them through his hair. “What am I supposed to do? What do you want? You want me to wank with you too?” 

And because he really, really didn’t expect for that to be what Harry was going to say, Louis doesn’t have time to train his face into something that’s not  _ yes please _ . He gets a hold of himself and laughs shakily, rolling his eyes. But not before Harry sees, knows, and processes the fact that Louis was just thinking about Harry’s hand on his dick. 

“Oh no! No way, Lou. We are co dependent enough as it is.” He points a finger at him and shakes it. Louis can’t help but smirk at his mother hen stance. “You’re gonna just have to wank with me in spirit or something mate. I don’t know, think about me when you wank.” 

And Louis has definitely had one too many beers and way too little food, because before his brain to mouth filter can kick in he’s grumpily mumbling “So, just like usual then.” 

It was quiet, he barely whispered it. But, in the kitchen with just them, if practically echos off the walls and smacks Louis in the face. He silently chants a prayer in his head while Harry stares at him, frozen in front of the stove.  _ Just pretend you didn’t hear it, just pretend you didn’t hear it, Jesus Haz, just pretend you didn’t fucking hear it.  _

Harry doesn’t speak again for at least seventeen and a half hours. Or maybe 40 seconds, but really times relative isn’t it? His entire posture shifts while he's staring at Louis’s face. Cocking his head to the side slowly, he narrows his eyes and draws himself up to full height. He’s really not that much bigger than Louis, just a couple inches. But right now the difference seems devastating and before the butterflies in Louis’s stomach get any worse he decides to hop down from the kitchen island and claim some space for himself. Maybe in the other room. Maybe China. 

Probably sensing (and decidedly ignoring) Louis’s palpable need to escape, Harry takes two steps forward swiftly, grabs tightly under his thighs and hurls him back up onto the countertop. While Louis’s brain is still spinning around in his head, Harry pushes himself in between Louis’s thighs and grips his sides. Hard. 

“I’m sorry, Lou I think I’m losing my hearing.” The gravel in his voice sends shivers up Louis’s spine and he arches back slightly before he can stop himself. “Can you repeat that for me?” 

Louis swallows audibly, eyes flickering nonstop from Harry’s eyes to his mouth. Green, pink, green, pink, green again. He gets a grip of his own bottom lip with his teeth and bites down. Tries to get a hold of himself. “I,uh, um,I well, uh.”

Talking is overrated anyway. 

Harry’s smirk is dark and the look he levels at Louis makes his stomach muscles clench deliciously. “No, that’s not what it sounded like you said.” He never takes his eyes from Louis’s face. Doesn’t even give him a second to think. “I think what you just told me is you when you get your hand around your pretty little dick, you think about me. Is that right?” 

And for someone who uses his mouth to make words for a l _ iving,  _ you would think Louis would be able to come up with something better than a raspy “S’not little.” 

Harry hums quietly and pointedly stares down at Louis’s lap, where his treacherous dick is hard and clearly outlined by his soft joggers. 

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” Harry’s brushes his nose against the tip of Louis’s before leaning back slightly and searching his eyes. “I bet it’s pretty though.” 

When Harry drags his pointer finger lazily along Louis’s length, his brain shuts off. That's it, he’s done for. He can only hope that his whimper properly conveys  _ I’ve been thinking about you in increasingly dirty ways since the very first second we met and I will let you do any thing you want to me just please hurry up and do it before I come to my senses.  _

It must, because Harry smirks and brings his hand up between their faces. His eyes lock onto Louis’s and hold him hostage as he drags his flattened tongue from his palm to fingertips before reaching roughly pulling Louis’s joggers down and pulling his dick out. 

Harry tugs him off with sure, confident strokes, like he's done this before. Like they do this all the time, Louis can’t manage anything more than whimpers. He’s babbling a little, but his brain isn’t functioning well enough for him to even be embarrassed. 

Harry kisses along the line of his jaw, making his way along his stubble to his ear, bites down gently when he gets there. Louis tries to remember what it’s like to breathe normally. To have one bit of space around him that wasn’t already brimming with Harry. His scent, his heat, his tongue, his mouth. 

“Shhh baby, I’ve got you.” And that, that should freak Louis out right? Harry doesn’t call him that. But hes not, hes just not. He’s not freaking out, melting into the counter a little maybe though. 

Harry hasn’t moved his mouth and his warm breath against Louis’s ear is probably going to kill him. Louis turns his head, trying to get a centimeter of space, trying to unfog his brain. Harry follows and nips him again. 

“I always take care of you, right Lou?” His voice is so goddamn deep. When in the fuck did his voice get so deep?

“Yeah, yeah Haz. You always take care of me.” And if he’s nodding along without a thought in the world, obediently parroting Harry's words back to him, it can be blamed on the fact that all the blood on his body is currently in his dick and far, far away from his brain. 

“Why don’t you show me how well I take care of you?” He pulls his head back and stares into Louis’s eyes, licks his lips and smiles smugly when Louis’s eyes trace the movement. He slides his hand down once more, up again. Thumbs over the head. “How about you show me? Come for me.” 

Louis pulls apart at the seams, shaking through his orgasm and clutching onto Harry’s shoulders for dear life. He thinks for a minute that he’s gone blind, that Harry has made him come so hard he’s lost his vision, but then realizes he squeezed his eyes shut. He opens them slowly and leans his head against Harry’s chest. Just trying to breath, trying to get his heart to beat a little slower. 

At the sound of Niall’s voice calling from the hallway, they jerk apart so violently Louis ends up slipping off the counter and landing with a thump onto the floor. Harry flies backwards and smacks his elbow on the counter. 

“Thought I heard Louis, yelling. Everything alright?” Niall rounds the corner with a bag of crisps in his hand and opens the fridge in search of a beer. Blissfully unaware of the x-rated activities he’s just narrowly missed. 

From his new found position on the floor, Louis meets Harry’s eyes and watches him give him a slow smile and one shoulder shrug. Yeah. Yeah, everything's gonna be just fine. 

 

 

The foamy toothpaste dripping from the corner of Louis’s mouth onto the counter is going to make a mess. Harry is not going to be happy, he’s never happy about the toothpaste mess. Louis will find some way to get over it, he’s sure. Besides, he’s creating art and if he were to focus on the toothpaste and not the mirror, would he really be giving it his all? Louis doesn’t believe in half assing anything, if he’s going to do something he’s going to use his full ass. 

Leaning back slightly and tapping his index finger on his chin, he surveys the absolute masterpiece of a dick that he is finger drawing through the shower steam on the vanity mirror. Hair. Definitely needs more hair. 

Harry is humming in the shower, something bluesy and low it sounds like, while he shampoos his hair. Louis can tell he’s only on the shampoo stage, the all too familiar smell of vanilla and honeysuckle permeating the humid air. Maybe today he will keep his eyes closed for once and not end up screaming in agony over shampoo burn. 

Louis leans back again to survey the effect of the addition onto his masterpiece, tilting his head this way and that while sporting a contemplative expression. With a small clap and slight crinkle around his eyes, he decides he’s finished and spits the toothpaste into the sink haphazardly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tosses the toothbrush into the sink and turns to the shower. If Harry is surprised when Louis yanks open the glass door and leans against the frame, he shows no sign of it. 

“Haz, my dear friend, I’ll tell you. I have outdone myself this time.” He watches as Harry smiles under the spray of the water, rinsing the suds away. Cringes slightly in sympathy, as his long fingers snag on small knots in the curls.  “Wait till you see this beautiful work of art.” 

Harry meets his gaze and gives him a slightly lopsided grin. It’s pretty. It’s a pretty grin on a pretty mouth on such a pretty face and Louis needs to focus. 

“I think I’m already looking at the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever seen.” Louis rolls his eyes with such intensity he really does fear for a second that they will get stuck that way. Harry’s always saying stuff like that. It’s not any different now that he’s had his hand around Louis’s dick. It has no effect. The flush creeping its way up Louis’s chest and threatening to show on his neck, his chest. That’s, well.. that's’ because it's so damn hot in here, that's all. 

“Why do you have to take such hot showers? Makes it all hot and gross in here.” Harry absolutely knows it's a copout, but he won't comment on it. 

“You want me to change the temp?” He’s already reaching over towards the controls, always so eager to make Louis happy. 

Louis huffs out a fond laugh and rolls his eyes again. “It’s your shower Haz! I was just saying-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, instead squeaks in surprise as he's suddenly pulled under the spray of water. His pants soaked through immediately. 

“Now it’s our shower.” Louis stares at Harry’s smug grin, frozen with his mouth agape for a solid 10 seconds. Then he attacks. Harry grabs his wrists and holds tightly to stop the assault and save every last bit of his skin from being covered in pinches. He backs him into the cool tile wall and pushes his hands up over his head. Holds them there and never loses his stupid grin. Louis is pretty sure he hates him. 

“I take back everything I ever said about being your friend. I don’t like you anymore.” Harry nods his head solemnly, looking properly heartbroken and hums thoughtfully. 

“What a shame. As it turns out, I love you.” That’s not anything new between them. They do love each other, they love all the boys. They exchange I love you’s over passing tea cups, lazy days cuddling on the couch, poorly told jokes, goodnights, goodbyes. But, this one makes Louis’s knees weak. He’s not ready to examine why that is just yet. Thankfully, Harry’s mouth, warm, biting, and pushing just this side of rough against his own stops the train of thought before he has to derail it himself. 

And, Jesus, what a wonderful distraction it is. Louis takes up every room he walks into, he always has. He pulls all the energy from the atmosphere around him and lets it glow from him with every word, every action, every loud laugh. And Harry lets him, Harry loves it. Loves to sit and watch Louis take command, take everyone’s attention within a five mile radius. But when he kisses? When Harry kisses there is nothing else in the universe. The air around Louis, the energy, the light, everything is Harry. He lets him box him in against the wall and take take take take, bruising his lips and pinning him still with his hips pushed close. Let’s him push his pants down into a wet pile on the shower floor. 

Harry stops and Louis knows he wants to tell him something, is waiting for his attention. He wills his eyes open slowly, breathing loudly through his mouth, and meets Harry’s gaze. His eyes are so very dark, his mouth shiny and bitten red, and Louis could die right now a very happy man.

Harry punches his hips forward once, dragging his dick along Louis’s and earning himself a moan that tumbles out of Louis’s mouth before he can even think to stop it. 

“Been two days, I think we might be behind schedule.” Louis wonders how he got a voice like that. Smooth honey dripping from cool finger tips on a summer day, warm and slow. He’s got to pay attention, Harry looks like he’s not done. “It was 21 you said right? That’s our magic number?”

There’s no way Louis can be expected to string to together words and construct sentences with Harry circling his hips that way. Grinding up against his dick and plastering himself to every inch of Louis’s body. “Yeah, yeah. That’s.” He stops to drag a breath, his lips doing nothing more really than just brushing against Harry’s open mouth. “That’s the number.” 

Harry lets out a low growl and hitches Louis’s leg up over his hip, grinding harder against him, pushing him up onto the balls of his feet. He pushes two fingers against Louis’s mouth and orders him to open. Shoves them in as deep as he can as soon as Louis obliges. His hips keep a constant pace, friction building and building. He’s driving Louis out of his mind and he never wants him to stop. 

    “Open your eyes.” And Louis hadn’t even realized they had slipped closed, too wrapped up in the _ everything  _ of Harry, but he snaps them open and stares into Harry’s. He takes his fingers out of Louis’s mouth, spit starting to drip down his wrist and circles his rim. Slow and teasing, just a slight touch of finger tips. Not enough. Not nearly enough. 

“Shh. Shh baby, I need you to listen to me now.” Louis does his best to silence the whimpers. Sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and tries. 

Harry rewards him with a small smile and rubs his nose against Louis’s, breathing into his mouth. His dick is hard and leaking where it's pressed against Louis’s. Louis tries harder. 

“I think you want to come for me. Is that what you want Lou?” Louis frantically nods, smacking the back of his head into the tile a little. But, it must not be a good enough response because Harry’s hip halt and he stares at Louis. So Louis babbles. 

“Yeah, yes. Yes Haz. Harry, please.. Please.” Harry drops his wrist and circles his hand around Louis’s throat, when he swallows, Harry squeezes. And oh. Oh, that’s something new. 

“Alright then.” Louis’s breath hitches at the nonchalance in Harry’s tone. Halts all together when Harry pushes his fingers past the ring of muscle and up into his body. With one more punch forward of his hips and another squeeze against his neck, Louis is coming all over the both of them. Harry follows a second later, mumbling incoherent praise about the look on Louis’s face when he comes.

      They end up a pile of limbs on the shower floor, wrapped around each other, heaving chests and lazy smiles as the water beats down on them and washes them clean again. Louis tilts his head back onto Harry’s shoulder and grins in response to the dopey expression he finds on Harry's face. Harry opens his mouth to tell him something, probably some ridiculous knock knock joke he’s read on the back of the cereal box, but snaps it shut when the sound of the front door slamming shut sounds through the apartment. Louis watches in sedated amusement as Harry scrambles up, long limbs flying every which way, and searches for his towel. He shoots him a wink and blows him a kiss before wrapping himself in the towel and stepping out into the hall. 

Louis thinks he recognizes Liam’s voice from outside the bathroom door, where he must be greeting Harry and it’s confirmed when he pushes into the bathroom a second later. 

“Hey, Lou.” He doesn’t seem at all concerned that Louis is laying naked at the bottom of the shower and has only managed to use enough energy to turn his head to him in acknowledgment. He bends down at the vanity and starts rifling through the contents below. “You got any bandaids in here?” 

The bubble of laughter that flows up from Louis’s chest and bursts out feels so good, so right that he doesn’t even bother making it stop for at least five minutes. Liam sits with him, grinning giddily while Harry’s faint chuckle sounds down the hall. 

 

 

The sound of the front door slamming into the wall jolts Louis a foot off the couch. His phone smacks into his face and bounces onto the floor. Rubbing his hand quickly over his probably thoroughly bruised eye, he scrambles onto his feet and bounds into the hall. Harry is there toeing off his shoes and pulling off his coat. When he lifts his chin and meets his gaze, Louis freezes. Harry starts slowly stalking forward, jaw tight and hands clenched. 

“Have you been keeping count?” His voice is barely above a whisper but it fills Louis’s brain, bounces around and pushes every other thought out. Louis counters his every step forward with his own step back and finds himself pressed against the wall, Harry’s hands pressed flat by either side of his head. 

“I asked you a question.” Louis rips his gaze away from the exposed skin of Harry’s biceps and looks into his eyes. “Have you been keeping count?” 

Harry knows he has been. Has to know that this is all Louis think’s about now. All he’s been thinking about for the past two days that Harry’s been out of town. All he’s thought about since the first time on the kitchen island. He just wants to hear him say it. The asshole. 

“Yes,” he stops to clear his throat and wills his voice to come out as something other than a breathy rasp. “I’ve been counting. Been keeping count.” 

Harry nods slowly. “Good boy.” His eyes rake up and down Louis’s body, burning a path along the way that makes Louis feel like squirming out of his own skin. Has his dick twitching in his sweat pants. “What’s the number then, love?” 

“Five.” 

Harry thuds down onto his knees and grips Louis’s hips, no doubt leaving marks. He wraps his fingers around the waist band of Louis’s pants and yanks them down around his ankles. 

He looks at Louis’s dick where it’s hard and pressed up against his belly and then up into Louis’s eyes, licking his lips. 

Taking him in his hand, he growls out “Six.” Before swallowing him down. 

 

 

 

The kettle is screeching on the stove. Two cups are sitting on the counter, tea bags already dropped in. The kettle is screeching and Louis really needs to get it, because it’s loud and obnoxious and the neighbors are sure to complain. He was on the way to get it. Ready for tea and netflix and maybe a little nap. But somehow he’s ended up here, bent over the arm of the sofa, Harry’s hands working on leaving purple bruises on Louis hips as he thrusts inside him at a punishing pace. Forcing Louis up onto his toes and making him scramble for purchase against the suede and cotton of the throw pillows. Harry’s fingers find their way into Louis’s hair and he tugs him up right, holds him flush against his chest as he hammers away at him. 

“How can you be so tight?” Harry is babbling, overwhelmed and chasing his high. “So tight and so so hot. A million degrees, baby. A million degrees every time.” 

And it’s just all too much for Louis. Harry’s voice too full of awe, his dick to big and full and pushing at exactly the right angle, his praise too sincere. He can’t hold on for another second, doesn’t want to, doesn’t have to. So he lets go. 

Harry feels him clench down around him and he lets out a loud groan. Pushes in deep and follows Louis over the edge. He lets his head fall down onto Louis’s back and they lay there together, spent and satisfied, breathing in tandem.

Harry reaches up and tangles his fingers in Louis’s. “What’s the number baby?”

Louis turns his head to the side and traces his thumb over Harry’s knuckle. 

“Twelve.”

Harry hums in acknowledgement but otherwise remains quiet, gently placing kisses along the knobs of Louis’s spine.  _ Mine mine mine mine  _

“Harry. Go get the fucking kettle.” 

 

 

 

 

Living in London has its perks. Easier to get to meetings, the nightlife is much livelier, the proximity to Niall’s. It’s a good place to live. But, laying on his back in the cool, damp grass of their garden, staring up at the stars, Louis is so grateful that they decided to buy a home out of the hussle and bussle of the city. They just don’t hang the stars quite the same way in London. 

Harry plops down next to him on the grass, stretching and popping his back before finally settling in. They sit in companionable silence for a while, because no matter what new developments have happened upon their relationship, they are still Harry and Louis. There’s no awkward silences, no choppy conversations, or weird looks. Louis doesn’t know how in the world he ended up so lucky. 

He turns his head to look at him and finds him already looking back, an easy smile perched on his lips. 

“Hey Lou.”

“Hello Harold.” 

Harry reaches between them and interlaces their fingers. Louis can tell he's looking for an anchor, looking to be grounded. 

“I love you, Lou.” He doesn’t say it softly, doesn’t say it all that differently at all. But there’s something there. Lou keeps his eyes trained on his face.

“I love you too, Haz.”  _ Always have g _ oes unspoken. But they both know it’s there, both have heard it enough times. 

“I love you, Lou. Not like before, not like the boys, not like the job. I’m in love with you.” The sincerity in the statement should terrify Louis. It should send him running for the hills. This is his best friend, professing his love for him. He should be worried or scared or surprised. All he feels is warmth.

“I’m in love with you too, Haz.” 

So, that settles that. 

 

 

 

As it turns out, fucking on top of  a running washing machine is not just for the movies. Well. Being jerked off on top of a running washing machine certainly is not just for the movies. The combination of the vibrations from the rocking machine and sensation of Harry’s lube wet hand circled tightly around his dick has got to be one of the best things Louis has ever experienced. Until Harry leans forward and mouths over Louis’s nipple, adds a little teeth. That. That is the best thing Louis has ever experienced. He proves it by coming wetly all over Harry’s hand. He slumps against the wall, catching his breath. He’s idly wondering if he’s ruined for all other sex for the rest of eternity when Harry smirks at him and licks his hand clean. Taking in Louis’s astonished expression Harry giggles  _ actually giggles  _ and tucks Louis away again in his pants. He gives him a pat on the thigh and then startles so hard at the door swinging open he slips and nearly smacks his head on the dryer before Louis steadies him. 

Zayn plops a bag of laundry down to the right of the washing machine and nods at Harry and Louis before taking a cigarette out from behind his ear and twirling it between his fingers. 

“Tell me when your load goes in the dryer, yeah?” He sounds bored, but that’s just Zayn’s way. Louis nods and Zayn exits without another word. Presumably to have a smoke in the garden. Louis watches him go and stares after him for a bit, comfortably lying against the wall until he realizes Harry is staring at him.

“They do _ know _ they don’t live here, right?” 

 

 

They’ve ordered pizza, enough for the five of them hopefully. It all depends on how Niall’s feeling really. Harry was probably right to order an extra. Louis plants his feet on the ground and leans the chair back, tilting it precariously in a way that he knows Liam hates. He’s waiting for Harry to finish handing out the napkins like the proper host he is. Waiting to get down to business. 

Soon enough Harry settles next to him and for a bit the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of chewing and glass beer bottles clinking on the table top.

Zayn’s eyes find his over the top of his beer bottle and he sets it down slowly before speaking. “Louis have you got something to say or have you been constipated for the last four days?” Fucking dick he is sometimes. Louis loves him. 

Harry looks back and forth between them and gives a little clap, which gets Liam’s attention. He’s always ready for news that one. Niall keeps on eating, not bothering to acknowledge any of them until they get their shit together. 

“So, Louis and I..” Harry started off strong, with conviction but he turns now to Louis and looks like he maybe wants to run. Okay then. 

“Yeah, um Harry and I wanted to tell you guys. We’ve been, um. Well, you see..” 

Niall takes another swig of his beer. “You’ve been screwing like rabbits all over our house and now you can’t stop looking at each other like the sun shines out of your respective assholes?” Helpful that Niall, always looking to help. 

Zayn and Liam both nod their heads. 

“ We know that.” Liam looks towards Zayn as the latter takes another sip of his beer. Pulling off of it with a pop he responds. 

“Yup.”

Harry and Louis turn and stare at each other, dumbfounded. But then Harry laughs and shrugs and Louis does too. Well, it is what it is. 

Harry stops laughing abruptly and points an accusatory finger in Niall’s direction getting a raised eyebrow in response. “What the fuck do you mean  _ our  _ house!” 

Louis can’t remember ever being happier. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
